


Din Djarin and The Space Lesbians

by elevenpacesleft



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 4 not-so-useless lesbians, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Din is depressed, F/F, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gay Bar, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Lesbian Bar, Luke Skywalker is a homewrecker, Not Beta Read, Post season finale, Sapphic rock, gucci boots, post episode 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenpacesleft/pseuds/elevenpacesleft
Summary: When Grogu leaves with Luke, Mando is inconsolable. Unfortunately, he's with a group of lesbians even more emotionally constipated than he is. So, they comfort him the only way they know how: by taking him to a gay bar. Chaos and friendship ensue.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune
Comments: 12
Kudos: 117





	Din Djarin and The Space Lesbians

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone's a little OOC, but given the circumstances and sheer amount of alcohol consumed, I think I can get away with it. Catch the Indiana Jones reference?

Only when the doors closed on Grogu and his new, cooler space dad, did Din finally let the tears escape his swollen eyes. 

He tried, valiantly, not to start openly sobbing in front of an audience, but that didn’t last. He plopped unceremoniously onto the floor next to an out-cold Moff Gideon, put his naked head in his hands, and cried.

Cara and Fennec glanced at each other, then at Bo-Katan and Koska. Evidentially, none of them knew what to do.

Cara decided, as the person who had known Din the longest, to take action. 

She crouched down next to him, slapping a hand to his shoulder. “Hey, Buddy.” Din didn’t answer. This was already far out of her wheelhouse. She winced. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. He seemed, he seemed like a very nice Jedi.”

Din just cried harder at that. 

Cara looked at the other women, silently pleading for assistance. None came. They all felt for Din, of course, but there was nothing to be done about that now. Fennec just shrugged her shoulders and radioed Boba to pick them up.

“Um,” Cara tried her best not to look at him while also providing comfort. She kicked Gideon out of the way before she sat down beside him, patting him (perhaps a little too forcefully) on the back. 

“Please stop that,” Din said, between gasps. "Ow." He had not lost control of himself like this since his parents had been killed. He suddenly felt another wave of grief crash over him when he realized this must have been how they felt after hiding him from the droids. It was getting hard to breath. Din was glad he had the helmet off; it would have gotten foggy in there. 

Cara stopped patting (hitting) him and he tried to pull himself together. Eventually, he stood up and looked at Bo-Katan.

“Knock me out and take it,” he said, picking up the Dark Saber. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

Bo-Katan raised her eyebrows. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Din sniffed, feebly. Then he addressed Cara. “Take me back to Nevarro?” 

“Sure, bud,” said Cara, too sweetly. 

“Let’s get this out of the way,” Din said and charged Bo. 

One swift pistol whip to the head was all it took for Din to join Gideon in a heap on the floor. 

Bo winced. “I didn’t feel good about that.”

“Who cares,” said Koska. She handed the Dark Saber to Bo, and the women all looked at each other, awkwardly. 

“So...wanna go pick up chicks?” Fennec said, after a long silence. 

“Yes.” “Yes, absolutely.” “Let’s go right now.” “Boba will totally be on board.” “Drinks on me!”

And that was how, 6 hours later, Din woke up, helmeted, in a dive bar with four emotionally constipated lesbians and a bounty hunter. 

“Where are we?” He felt groggy. There was a pint of dark liquid with a long straw sitting in front of him. 

“Back on Nevarro, at one of my favorite haunts,” Cara said, smiling widely. Her cheeks were pink.

Din looked around. The place was dark but had a variety of colored lights strung up on the walls and plasma screens playing music videos to ambient sapphic rock. It was absolutely packed with women (excluding him, Boba, and one of the bouncers). He saw Bo-Katan and Koska chatting up a blue-skinned alien in the corner. Fennec was on the dance floor, wrapped around another stranger. Din felt a twinge of jealousy at that, but it wasn’t anywhere near his predominant emotion. 

Boba was on Cara’s other side with a Twi’lek on his knee. 

Din looked away, cheeks burning. He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. 

“When I said bring me back to Nevarro, I meant somewhere I could sleep for a week. Not a lesbian bar,” he said.

“Oh, come on! Not everyone here is a lesbian. Some people,” Cara paused dramatically, “are bisexual.” She nodded sagely in Boba Fett and co.'s direction. 

“What happened to Gideon?” Din said, resting his helmeted forehead on the bar.

“I turned him into the New Republic an hour ago. Huuuuge payday. Now drink up, Djarin, you’ll feel better.” 

“I really don’t feel like celebrating after the sudden loss of my child,” Din muttered. He was exhausted. 

“We’re not celebrating, per se. This,” she hiccuped, “is a two-for-one. We are celebrating Gideon being out of the picture, and we are ALSO drinking the sad away like you’re supposed to when something like this happens. Blow off some steam.” 

“Mandalorians are so supposed to meditate on tragedy, not resort to boozing and pretending everything’s ok,” Din said. He took a deep breath. “Fuck it.” He already broke the most important rule anyway. Twice. He tugged off his helmet and threw the straw out of his drink, gulping it down. 

“Atta-boy!” Cara said. She waved at Bo and Koska. “He’s joining us!” The two Mandalorians did a small, celebratory dance before toasting in Din’s direction with their green-skinned companion. They each downed a shot of radioactive looking liquid.

Din knocked back another drink as he turned to Cara, speech slurring slightly. “Are you s-sure it’s ok for me to be here?” 

“We vouched for you and Boba, but the bouncer’s probably gonna hit on you on the way out,” Cara said and ordered them another round. 

Things progressed quickly after that.

Two pyramid stacks of shot glasses began to grow in front of Cara and Din and patrons gathered on either side of them, cheering. 

They were arm wrestling. Loser takes a shot.

Din’s pyramid was significantly larger. 

“Come on Mando you can take her!” Koska shouted in his ear. 

“Do it for Mandalore!” Bo-Katan was bouncing on her toes beside him. 

Boba and Fennec were cheering for Cara, smugly. 

Din tried, but his opponent’s gigantic bicep bested him once again. He took another shot. “I yield! I yield,” he laughed and stood up swaying slightly. 

A new song started playing then, a tune that readers from the future might say sounds awfully similar to “Hong Kong Garden,” by Siouxsie and the Banshees. Of course, it was not that song. It wouldn’t be written for many millennia. But it certainly sounded like it. 

“I—hic— like this one,” Din said, bopping his head to beat.

At that, Cara pulled him into the throng of dancers, followed by Fennec and the Mandalorians. Boba remained at the bar with his companion but gave the group an approving nod.

What happened next was some of the worst, most inebriated freestyle dancing the galaxy had ever seen. But that didn’t matter. 

When they’d danced themselves out, Din and the others slumped onto a booth in the corner of the bar. Their heads rested on each other’s shoulders. If a sense of camaraderie wasn’t born from the violence of their rescue mission, it was definitely born out of a night of debauchery. 

“How you doin’, Mando?” Fennec asked.

“Pretty good,” Bo and Koska said, simultaneously.

“No, I meant the other one.”

“Oh,” Koska said. She nudged him. “Din?”

“Wha?” he said.

“You okay?” Fennec asked again. 

“Well, no,” Din responded. He was on the verge of passing out. “I’m d-drunk for the first time in my life, my little baby son is gone, and I hate my b-boots.” He scowled at them. “They’re not cool.”

“Your boots?” Cara perked up, surprised. She thought his boots were fine, very practical.

“My boots aren’t cool. That Jedi had cool fucking boots. Really cool. They looked expensive. Designer fucking Gucci boots,” he rambled. And promptly lost consciousness.

“What the hell are Gucci boots?” Cara whispered, looking at her still-conscious compatriots.

“I have no idea,” Bo said. “But he’s right.” She sighed. “They were really fucking cool.”

Sometime later, when most of the patrons had left and only the rescue team and a handful of other stragglers remained, did Greef Karga arrive at the door. 

He addressed the bouncers. “I’m here to pick up four Mandalorians, the Marshall, and,” he checked his notes, “a cyborg lady.” The burly humans let him inside, and Karga sidled up to the party. 

“Time to go, kids. Where’s Fett?” 

“Oh, he left...couple hours ago,” Fennec mumbled. “Back on the ship.”

“I see, well, up and at ‘em! Wh-whoa, whoa,” he suddenly noticed Din’s helmet was off, asleep on Cara’s shoulder. “Does he know he’s not wearing that?” 

“Oh yeah. He’s been through some shit, as I mentioned earlier,” Cara said, sleepily. 

Karga sighed. That made sense, he guessed. 

He gathered up the crew, made sure all tabs were paid, and escorted them back to where they belonged. Din would be staying in his guest room while the two Mandalorians and Fennec were crashing at the Marshall’s place. 

Before they parted, Din woke up enough to pat Cara on the shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Dune.” 

She smiled. “Thanks. Now go sleep for a week.”

***

Din woke up late the next day with the most singularly awful headache he’d ever had. 

He felt dehydrated, and, more than anything, depressed. 

Thankfully, Karga had anticipated this. A glass of water, a few pills, and his helmet awaited him on the bedside table. There was also a large package with a card addressed to him sitting on it.

He tore open the envelope. 

The card read:

“Hi, sleeping beauty!

Thank you not only for your help taking the ship and capturing Gideon but for letting us attempt to pay you back. We hope you had fun. Additionally, you’ve been transferred half the reward money for Gideon’s capture. If it means anything to you, we don’t think you and your boy will be separated for long. But to make you feel better, we wanted to get you something to ease the pain. Hope you like them.

Sincerely,  
Bo-Katan, Koska, Cara, and Fennec

P.S.,  
Thanks for the Dark Saber. Sorry I had to hit you so hard. -Bo”

Din opened the box, revealing a pair of shiny, black, knee-high Gucci boots.

“Cool.”


End file.
